


I've Lived a Long Bloody Time

by goddesswan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Captain Duckling, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10184966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddesswan/pseuds/goddesswan
Summary: Everyone is born with a soul mark that has only one match. The day you turn 20, you stop aging until you find your match. Emma was born with a swan beneath her collarbone and has no desire to meet its mate.





	

Killian Jones has been plagued his whole life, a lot of bloody years, by the swan beneath his collar bone.

It's a simple soul mark but a rare one.

Simple in it's design, it consists of two lines—a thick curving line in the shape a hook, swooping down and out, thinning into a gentle curve like that of a closed eyelid and another, slightly rippled line starting about two-thirds of the way down from the first, rising, falling and then rising again, flicking up like wave smashing against rocks.

It's rare in two ways. Soul marks tended to be made up of dark colors: black, dark grays, and varying shades of browns and reds. His was white like an old, faded scar. Most soul marks don't resemble much of anything. People usually have thick misshapen blobs or odd squiggly lines. Occasionally one finds themself with the markings of a constellation or something resembling the outline of an object. He once met an extremely horrid woman with the distinctive design in the middle of her shoulder blades—an ugly, jagged heart, ripped in half. Her daughter had the curves of a snake on the inside of her wrist. Lovely family that.

His brother had a wave on the back of his calf.

Killian was done with the soulmate business after the death of his brother. He wanted to find his soulmate and get his bloody miserable life over with as soon as possible. Were he a lesser man, he may have taken his life himself. But he knew Liam wouldn't approve, that his brother would want him to continue on and live to the fullest.

When he met Milah, he thought maybe she could be the one—maybe his life wasn't destined to be an endless void. But her mark was an odd, brown crescent shape on the inside of her wrist.

He didn't care much that their marks weren't a match. They loved each other and together, life was no longer miserable. She brightened the darkened corners of his heart and mind, brought color into his life he hadn't seen since the loss of his brother. He could happily live on forever with her at his side.

He couldn't imagine anyone else out there being the one. He couldn't imagine anyone being a more perfect fit for him than his brave, brazen, raven-haired beauty, a woman who fit so perfectly on his ship, amongst his crew, and between his body and the wall of his cabin.

Frankly, he didn't want to find said person.

Milah claimed that the spineless man she was married to wasn't a match. He didn't care much about that either. He trusted her. And even if she lied, at least he would be able to have her for the rest of her years.

What few years he actually got.

After her death, his life continued on an endless span of rum, anger, and misery.

The crocodile continued to live with his dagger.

He continued to live with his unmatched soul mark. Most days the only thing keeping him going was the anticipation of the revenge of his love lost.

—

Emma Swan has never had much interest in her soul mark. For most of her life, it had been nothing more than a nuisance—something she’s had to take great care to keep covered (too many high-necked dresses, cloaks, scarves and carefully placed jewelry) lest someone spot it and falsify their own in an attempt to wed the crown princess.

Her parents are living, annoying proof of how well soulmates work out—imagine her father’s surprise when the woman he had caught in his net bore a mark matching his own on the back of her hand and, likewise, her mother’s when the man she’d smacked in the face with a rock turned out to be the one.

One would think having such perfectly matched parents would cause her to be hopeful in finding her own soul mate. One would be wrong.

Really, only the thought of outliving her parents an unreasonable amount of time kept her from writing off the stupid mark altogether.

She’s been twenty for five years now.

It’s not an absurd amount of time—she knows it took her Aunt Ruby just over 11 years to meet her match Belle—but she’s heard tales of people waiting nearly a hundred years. And with every sign her parents show of aging, her heart clenches.  

—

The only true alone time Emma gets is when she takes Buttercup, a beautiful champagne colored horse with golden hair, out riding. It’s a casual affair and that’s what she most enjoys about it, the simplicity.

On days when she’s feeling lost or unsettled or just in need of some familiarity, she takes her usual beaten path: a straight shot from the stable, a curve around the abandoned nymph tree, a stop near the weathered cliffs overlooking the sea, and back to the stables. Other days, when she’s feeling bored or particularly restless she explores. Some days she does a mixture of both.

Upon one of her many adventures, she discovered a now beloved spot. It’s a narrow but deep ravine, rocky walls reaching higher than her head in some areas, located beyond the tree and just past the tiger lily meadow. The first time she followed it she found that it leads out to a different section of cliffs, creating a waterfall and dropping off into a small pool, which then juts out and drops into the sea.

Usually, she stops, removes her shoes, and dips her feet in the pool, lifts up her skirts and wades out until the water is flowing around her calves, spins around with the feeling of pebbles and sand slipping between her toes.

On trips when the air is especially sultry, she strips down to her small clothes and swims around (a secret just between her and her trusted steed, not even her parents are aware of.) She’ll rest amongst the plush flowers, letting the warm sun evaporate the droplets of water off her skin and dry her smalls.

Today the weather is slightly brisk, the sun clouded over and the wind bordering on unpleasant. Usually, when faced with this weather, Emma would forgo riding.

But she just finished arguing with her mother over a trip to Arendelle. She simply wants to visit her friend Elsa for a fortnight and return before the annual soulmate ball but Snow insists that she stay an extra week to see if there are any gentleman that carry the potential of being her true love. “We just want you to be happy, my dear,” her father chimed in.

She knows that the queen can be a conniving little thing and if she leaves before the disagreement is settled, her mother will do something like instruct the ship’s crew not to leave until the ball has passed.

Emma would normally wait her mother out, leave at a later time, but the year is drawing to an end and if she doesn’t leave soon she’ll run the risk of facing unbearable weather and unrelenting storms.

So, with her and her mother no closer to an accordance, Emma dawns her favorite cloak, made of a thick pure white material and lined with swan feathers on the inside (her parents’ idea of an inside joke) and heads out.

With the air being as bitter as it is, the wind trying its damnedest to pierce through her cloak, she doesn’t even entertain the idea of removing her shoes, let alone entering the water. She simply dismounts from her horse and walks out to the edge of the first set of cliffs.

Scanning the sea, she sees a ship docked a little ways down, near a small shore, far from anywhere a ship should be docked—the nearest port at least half a mile from her location. The colors of the ship are decidedly not from any nearby kingdom and she doesn’t see any men aboard which, in Emma’s mind, is more concerning than if it was full of crewmen.

Just as she’s decided to head back to the castle and inform her parents, something startles Buttercup and before Emma can say “settle” she being flung over the cliff.

—

The last thing Killian Jones expected, when departing from his crew and wandering up the side of the hill near the small shore he anchored the Jolly at, was to find a woman. And even less expected was to see her go tumbling off a cliff.

After a brief moment of shock, he runs over to see if the lass is alright. He heard no screams and, alarmingly, no sound of pain upon impact. He looks down and sees the girl sprawled out on her back, eyes shut and one arm twisted in a distressing fashion behind her back. The sight of her, unmoving, causes a swooping sensation near his navel.

He estimates the fall to be about ten feet and is about to jump down when he sees a declining section of land perfect to walk down. When he reaches the girl, he puts his fingers to her neck and, thankfully (he’s a pirate but he’s got a moral code and would not feel pleasant at causing the accidental death of an innocent stranger), discovers a pulse.

He sits back on his haunches and properly takes her in and bloody hell she’s a wondrous sight—long, golden hair, cutting cheekbones, and soft pink lips. And he’d be a damned horrible pirate if he didn’t behold her beauty and lavish clothing and conclude that she was the crown princess.

What a mess he’s gotten himself into.

He gathers the lass in his arms and trudges back up the slight hill and attempts to coax the horse into letting them mount. It’s a smart beast and seems conflicted due to the obvious state of trouble its master is in but after some cajoling, it allows Killian to heft the girl onto her and mount up behind her.

He gathers the princess tightly with his right arm and wraps the reins around his hook and heads off into the direction he believes the castle to be in.

Nearing the edge of the forest he pauses to pull the hood of the cloak over the girl’s face, knowing it won’t do much to hide her identity but hoping for a miracle nonetheless.

A miracle he gets. The castle grounds, assumingly due to the weather, lack people. He’s tempted to get as close as possible, lay the princess down, let the horse loose and run off. He knows arriving to the castle with the prone body of Misthaven’s crown princess in his arm will not bode well for him. But the idea of leaving her unattended doesn’t sit right.

He shouts “I mean no harm!” at the first person he sees, a disgruntled looking dwarf.

He narrowly avoids getting his head flung off and does a serious amount of explaining and appealing. “If I wanted the princess dead I wouldn’t have brought her back to the castle and if I wanted her for ransom I wouldn’t have ridden up, alone and unarmed. I’m a might bit smarter than that.” And bites his tongue to stop himself from insulting the angry little thing.

Eventually, the dwarf allows him to help bring the golden haired beauty into the castle, where he hands her off to curly haired, fur cloaked guard.

He isn’t allowed to leave right away, though. He’s taken to a room and sat down, surrounded by six guards.

He waits for what feels like hours before the king comes walking through the doors.

“So, you found my daughter and brought her back, huh?” the man challenges, his voice gruff.

“Do I get a medal for this?” he smarts. With the situation he’s in, he should really watch his mouth, a point which hits home when the king moves his hand to rest on his sword, but he truly can’t help himself.

“Where were you and what were you doing?”

“Well, my crew and I docked near a small section of land. They disembarked and headed into town but I needed some alone time on dry land. The sea is a wonderful lover but even with the best of mistresses, sometimes a man needs a little time alone. I was wondering through the trees and came up a hill just in time to witness that horse, startled by something or another, send your daughter toppling off a cliff. As for the exact whereabouts of our location, I’m assuming if the princess didn’t inform you herself, it’s probably a place she wants kept hidden and who am I to go about spilling the lass’s secrets?”

His hand grips the hilt of his sword a little tighter. “Emma doesn’t tell us where she goes when she takes off with Buttercup. It’s not very conducive to keeping her safe but it’s one of the few things she feels she has any actual control over so we let her be.” A look Killian can’t quite place passes over the man’s face, something a mixture of love and melancholy.

Killian feels a small pang in his chest for the princess—Emma. How isolated she must feel stuck in this looming palace for most hours of the day—a woman with the world at her feet and her land’s people in her hands, to one day lead them all, but having little control over the aspects of her day to day life.

“Look,” the king continues, his expression firming, “the queen and I are grateful that you found her and returned her to us. It couldn’t have been easy and in doing so you risked your head. We have no laws here against pirates making port in our land. As long as you don’t cause any trouble, you’re free to do as you like. But do make sure to dock your ship in a proper port and if you’re ever involved in my daughter being caused harm again, I will have your head. Are we clear?”

He steps back and allows Killian room to stand.

“Yes, your majesty,” he says, smirking but taking a slight bow. The king offers out his hand and as Killian graps it, the king’s eyes wander down his chest and a look of horror crosses his face.

Abruptly, the man drops his hand and takes off through the doors he’d just came through.

“What caused him to startle like that?” the agitated dwarf from before ponders, looking him up and down. His eyes seem to land on the same spot as the kings but instead of a look of fright, the dwarf bursts into laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

—

“You’re quite certain, David?” Emma hears her mother demand as she awakens.

“Yes!” her father nearly shouts. “He stood up and his shirt fell open, revealing an absurd amount of chest hair and a white swan, clear as day beneath his collar bone.

“Fuck,” her mother exhales and Emma feels it on a molecular level.

“Who—” she starts, her voice cracking. “Who is it?”

In sync, her parents whip their heads to face her. Neither of them looking very much like they want to tell her.

“A pirate, dear,” her mother informs her. “His name is Killian Jones. He’s the man who brought you back to the castle after you’d fallen.”

“From the ship I saw?” she wonders aloud.

Her father simply nods.

“Well, there’s no use in waiting around. Might as well get it over with,” she sighs. She struggles to get out of bed, her head pounding and one arm throbbing, secured tightly to her chest.

“You hit your head pretty hard and landed on your arm,” her mother informs. The cool touch of her mother’s fingers against her head, gently pushing her hair back, is heavenly. “It was dislocated at the shoulder and it’s broken in two places. You need to rest. If you want to meet the man, we’ll have him brought up here.”

“A pirate in my room? How scandalous,” she muses and ignores the look of disgust that crosses her father’s face.

Snow returns shortly with a rather handsome man in tow. He’s got striking blue eyes, dark hair, a reasonable amount of scruff, and an unreasonable (absurd as her father put it) amount of chest hair.

“At least you’re easy to look at,” Emma concedes.

“Let me assure you that you are beyond easy to look at your highness,” he responds with a bemused smirk, his chest falling forward into a perfect bow. “Captain Hook at your service. But pardon me, if I’m confused as to what’s going on here.”

Emma hesitates. She’s uncomfortable with the idea that from the moment she was born she was predestined to meet this man, that some unknown forces have put her life on hold until a specific time that they would meet. Nobody should be in control of her destiny but her.

She could tell this man it was a misunderstanding, send him on his way.  It’s possible that now that they’ve met she’ll begin to age again. She’ll be able to live out her life, serving her kingdom and not feeling as if she’s been trapped by the powers that be.

But she’s never heard of anyone choosing not to be with their soulmate. She doesn’t know if parting from his so soon will force her into not aging again.

Her mind made up, she takes a deep breath and pulls the neck of her dress down.

“With your parent’s in the room love? That’s—” His words cut off, his mouth falls open and his eyes widen, the pupils shrinking down until their almost nonexistent and she stares into his impossibly blue irises. She’s grateful he’s stopped talking; she didn’t want to hear where his sentence was going.

“Bloody hell,” he croaks, looking as if he’s about to faint.

With her free arm, she pats the empty space on the side of her bed.

“Please sit,” she implores. “I’d hate for you to collapse on my floors.”

Hesitantly he sits by her knees, his back straight as one of her mother’s arrows, looking for all the world as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Isn’t this every pirate’s dream? To be matched with a princess?” she challenges. She’s feeling rather irritated at his response. She’s the one that just found out some dirty pirate is her soulmate. She should be the one in shock and uncomfortable.

“Not this pirate, love” he sighs. He must realize that he’s offending her because he hurriedly adds, “Nothing against you. I’ve just lived a long bloody time with this mark hanging over my head. I never wanted to meet my mate.”

“How old are you exactly?”

“Two-hundred-something I believe. I’ve lost count at this point. All I know is that it’s been too long. All I’ve wanted for many years is to just kill the crocodile and finally rest.”

“The crocodile?” she prods, no longer angry just confused.

“Aye, Rumplestiltskin,” his eyes flash something deadly.

“But that’s impossible!” What has the dark one done to him that has given him the foolish notion that he must kill him?

“Nothing’s impossible if you’ve got the will. I have the will and I will find a way,” he growls.

“Well, no one’s forcing you to stay,” Emma grumbles. “If you’re so opposed to having a soulmate and hellbent on your revenge, far be it from me to hold you back.”

“Emma, if I may interject. I’ve come up with an idea,” her mother announces and Emma eyes her warily. “I think some time away will do you some good. You shall go on your trip to visit Elsa and bring Killian along with you. Stay for as long or as short as you’d like. Obviously, the desire I had for you to attend the ball has been… changed.”

Emma feels as if she’s been through enough today. She’s argued with her mother, fallen off a cliff, and met her soulmate who is just as adverse to the idea as her. Her entire body aches fiercely. Her nerves feel as if they’ve been prodded with needles. She’s tired and cranky and her head feels fuzzy. And now her mother has lost her mind.

Snow senses her reluctance and continues, “The only thing we need in life is for you to be happy, my dear. I’d hate the thought of you throwing away your chance at true love. This trip will give you time to get to know each other and to sort out your feelings. If it doesn’t work out, then that’s that. But please, all I’m asking is that you try.”

Emma looks to her father but his face is a carefully composed mask.

“I’m willing to try if you are love,” the man sitting on her bed says carefully.

She feels as if she’s been doused in cold water. Was he not, just moments ago, saying how he never wanted to find her? Suddenly he wants to go on some lovers voyage?

“Do I have a say in the matter?” she queries, resting her head back against her pillows.

“Of course you do,” her mother responds, sounding affronted. “I’d rather you say yes, though.”

Translation: she has a say but her mother will argue her point until Emma’s is whittled down to nonexistence.

“I guess, if he’s willing, something can be arranged,” she addresses her mother and then turns her attention to Hook. “Don’t expect anything from this.” He nods solemnly. “And we’ll be staying in separate cabins.”

At that, he laughs. “You say that now, but we’ll see what your thoughts are by the end of the trip.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a CS secret valentine gift of princess-emma-of-misthaven on Tumblr


End file.
